


there’ll be peace when you are done

by suzukiblu



Series: McGenji AU Week [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angels and Demons, Blood and Injury, Crossroads Deals & Demons, M/M, road trip of revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: “Just passing through?” a voice asks. Genji turns and sees a human body with nothing human reflected in its eyes smiling at him. In another life, he’d be reaching for the holy water. In this one, it’d burn him just as badly as this monster.“I’m not interested in playing,” he says, and the demon laughs. His human host is a tall, handsome man with a crooked smirk and laugh lines around his eyes. The demon has dressed him all in black, right down to the cowboy hat and boots.Demons, Genji thinks. They always have to play a part.





	there’ll be peace when you are done

**Author's Note:**

> Day two of McGenji AU week: Crossover. I went with Supernatural, though this is actually a fusion fic, not a straight crossover.

Genji, dying, makes a deal for revenge with a beautiful demon. She kisses his ruined face to seal it, and builds him a new body out of his own pain and fear and helpless rage. It hurts to exist in, that body, and it’s an ugly, scarred thing held together with nothing but black magic and his own spite. 

But it’s a body, and it’ll let him find Hanzo again. 

“Just passing through?” a voice asks. Genji turns and sees a human body with nothing human reflected in its eyes smiling at him. In another life, he’d be reaching for the holy water. In this one, it’d burn him just as badly as this monster. 

“I’m not interested in playing,” he says, and the demon laughs. His human host is a tall, handsome man with a crooked smirk and laugh lines around his eyes. The demon has dressed him all in black, right down to the cowboy hat and boots. 

Demons, Genji thinks. They always have to play a part. 

“I don’t recall mentioning a game, Genji Shimada,” the demon says, immediately proving himself to be exactly what Genji knew him for on sight and doing it with a smile. “Name’s McCree. I’m new around these parts, you could say.” 

Fresh from Hell, then. 

“And?” Genji says. Unless this is about to end in information about Hanzo, he really doesn’t care. Demons like giving him information, sometimes. They like withholding it just as much. 

“And you look tired, brother,” McCree says, still smiling. Genji bristles. 

“I’m no one’s brother,” he says, and McCree laughs light and easy. 

Genji leaves. There’s nothing for him here. 

He makes it two days before he sees McCree again in a dive bar, whispering into a drunk’s ear. Genji isn’t a hunter anymore, but some part of him still itches to put a knife through the demon’s mouth. He wonders how McCree can even be here, when he is so obviously nothing like a human. He stands there blanketed in power, whispering terrible lies or merciless truths into the ear of some poor soul, and hell knows how _that’s_ going to turn out. 

Aside from badly, obviously. 

But Genji isn’t a hunter anymore, and it’s not his job to save people or hunt things. The only thing that matters to him is finding Hanzo and putting a knife in his gut. He’ll never have peace or rest, but at the damned least he is going to have _satisfaction_. 

McCree sees him, and smiles across the bar at him. Genji walks right up to him and punches him in the mouth, lays him out _flat_ , and McCree hits the floor. He looks up at him, handsome as sin in his stolen body and bleeding from the mouth, and laughs. 

“That actually _hurt_ ,” he says, sounding delighted by the novelty. 

“Get the hell out of here,” Genji says, and that’s how he gets thrown out of a bar with a demon, McCree laughing all the way. He sees him again in Poughkeepsie, and again in Wichita, and a few more times after that. He’s been all over looking for Hanzo, and it seems he’s always one step behind, and McCree’s always one step ahead. 

The demon must really _want_ something, Genji thinks. 

“Fine,” he finally spits after another failed hunt and a miserable night spent in graveyard mud. “What’s your story?” 

“I’m just looking around, brother,” McCree says, tipping his hat to him. “Keeping an eye on some poor sinners’ souls.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Genji sneers, wondering how many people McCree’s fed to Hell in the time he’s been up here. He’s always whispering to a new stranger every time Genji finds him. 

. . . sees him. 

He’s not _looking_ for the man. Or whatever scraps of a man make up a demon, anyway. 

“I’m only doing as I was made to do,” McCree says, then takes off his hat and does a little bow. Genji would shoot him, but McCree seems to find pain more of an entertainment than a deterrent. Besides, the host’s probably already good as dead and doubtless won’t see any semblance of freedom until he _does_ die, but Genji doesn’t want to be that final killing blow if he’s not. It’s not like it’d really free the poor bastard; not ‘til McCree’s done with him. 

It’s a fate Genji wouldn’t wish on anyone, except perhaps Hanzo. He’s been helpless and felt the pain of death without being allowed to die--why shouldn’t Hanzo deserve the same? 

“You have some dark thoughts in there, don’t you, brother,” McCree says, and Genji doesn’t see him again for a long time. 

He hunts, because the hunt is all he has left to him. He walks alone where no one can find him, barely held together by black magic and spite, and still doesn’t find Hanzo. He doesn’t save people, but he kills some things. In the past he would’ve thought that was the same thing; now he knows better. 

People die, as people do. Genji lives, because he cannot die yet. 

“It’s been a long time, Genji,” the demon he made his deal with says as she leans over him, smiling sweeter than McCree ever did. 

“I still have time,” Genji says past the blood bubbling in his throat. Ten years she gave him--he still has _plenty_ of time. This won’t kill him. 

“Good,” the demon Mercy says, her eyes black as his soul and her smile never wavering. “I wouldn’t want to see you lose your vengeance, after all. That’s not part of our deal. Now tell me--where does it hurt?” 

Black magic and spite and so much _pain_ , and Genji moves on. 

“You seem troubled, friend,” a demon wearing, of all things, a _monk’s_ body says as he sits down across from him in the diner. Genji bristles all the way up his spine. 

“What the hell,” he says. 

“Would you pray with me?” the demon asks, folding his hands together neatly and wearing an expression of perfect neutrality. Genji can’t hold back the laugh. It scrapes the wrong way in his throat; it’s been a while since he laughed. 

“Demons pray, now?” he sneers. The demon tilts his head, expression never changing. 

“Is that what you think I am?” he asks. 

“I know one when I see one,” Genji says. It’s not that different from what he sees in the mirror, for a start. 

“I see,” the demon says. “Then I suppose you will not hear my prayer?” 

“That’s the last thing I ever want to hear,” Genji says, and stalks out of the diner. Whatever the demon might do in there--well, he wasn’t going to be able to stop it either way. He doesn’t have to stay and watch. 

He’s so tired of demons taunting him. 

He moves on. He always moves on. He doesn’t find Hanzo. He never finds Hanzo. But he has time, still, and in the meantime, the world is full of monsters. 

“Defend us in battle,” the demon in the monk’s body says as they stand together in front of dark and dreadful creatures, his hands folded as neatly as the first time and Genji bleeding too badly to be picky about his allies. “Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray.” 

Genji covers his burning ears and tries not to vomit at the sound of holy words. 

He wonders how the demon can stand it. 

“This life’s never uneventful,” McCree says, grinning with bloody teeth. 

“This is not your time,” Mercy says, reaching out to touch. 

“I know the doubts that plague you,” the demon in the monk’s body says, and Genji could fucking _scream_. 

“So does every damn one of your kind,” he says. 

He keeps moving. Keeps hunting. 

Keeps chasing Hanzo’s shadow. 

“You look tired, brother,” McCree says, leaning in with a smile. Genji bites him in the face, and he laughs. McCree always laughs. “If you want to play rough . . . well, come here, darlin’.” 

Genji isn’t playing. 

McCree reels him in, and he bares his teeth. McCree laughs, of course. It’s a handsome, handsome man that McCree is wearing the face of. 

Genji thinks he’s going to be sick. 

He moves on. 

“You seem troubled, my friend,” the demon in the monk’s body says. Genji keeps watching the sky. He won’t die here, but he feels like he could. “What preys upon your mind?” 

“You know damn well,” Genji says. 

“I might,” the demon says. “But perhaps I do not.” 

“What am I even supposed to call you?” Genji asks in exhaustion. He’s so tired of games. Demons always play games. 

He used to be good at games. 

“Ah . . .” The demon pauses, then tilts his head. His face is expressionless, as always. “I have been called Zenyatta, in the past. Will that name suffice?” 

“You are aware that I already sold my soul, right, Zenyatta? You’re barking up a dead tree here,” Genji says, and Zenyatta hums. 

“Adversity comes to us all,” he says. “For now, though, you are still alive. Should that not mean it is not yet too late?” 

“I don’t even know what you’re _saying_ ,” Genji says. “If you want a piece of me, go talk to Mercy.” 

“I want nothing of you,” Zenyatta says. “And--forgive me--it seems you want nothing of yourself.” 

“I want _satisfaction_ ,” Genji hisses, teeth baring. 

“And death will satisfy you?” Zenyatta asks. 

“One death will,” Genji says. 

He moves on. Mercy visits once or twice, just to remind him how the time’s ticking down. He sees McCree once or twice, and his host is the same handsome man in black whispering in the ears of sinners. Zenyatta talks to him once or twice, and he ignores him. 

All three of them could kill him. It’s just a matter of which one’s going to do it first. 

It’s just a matter of whether or not he’ll find Hanzo first. 

He’s going to find Hanzo first. 

“Ain’t you tired, brother?” McCree asks as he steps in close again. “Don’t you want some peace?” 

“Peace is the last thing I care about,” Genji says. 

“You sure about that?” McCree asks. 

Genji moves on. 

He ends up alone in a warehouse, choking on blood and black magic and his own spite, barely holding together at his cracks and scars. It’s not anything new. 

He’s cornered, though, which isn’t the best situation he’s ever been in. Seven of them, one for each sin, and one of him about to be torn into seven pieces. Would that be enough to kill him? He’s really not sure. 

He still has to find Hanzo. 

“Oh, darlin’, the _trouble_ you get yourself into,” a familiar voice says, and McCree steps into the light, gun dangling at his side. The other demons whip around, and Genji almost laughs. McCree has room to talk about trouble, now? 

“I don’t recall inviting anyone else to the party,” one of the demons says, and McCree laughs. His right eye starts to glow. 

“Step right up,” he says, and lifts his gun. This time Genji _does_ laugh. What the hell is he about to do with a six-shooter and a red right eye? 

McCree fires, and Genji hears seven echos in one shot. The demons all scream, white light bursting from their stolen bodies, and they hit the ground in quick succession. Genji . . . stares. 

“What in hell did you just do,” he says. 

“As I was made to,” McCree replies reasonably, his gun still glowing with white light as he spins it casually around a finger. 

“What kind of demon was made to do _that_?!” Genji demands in disbelief, and McCree gives him a wry look as he holsters his gun. 

“Never said I was no demon, darlin’,” he says. 

“What else would you _be_?!” Genji demands. 

“You look tired,” McCree says, holding out a hand and smiling at him with that handsome, handsome face. “Why don’t you come with me, and we can have us a little talk?” 

They talk. McCree is full of shit. 

_“Angels,”_ Genji says disbelievingly. 

“Angels,” McCree confirms, taking a sip of whiskey. 

“You drink! You swear!” 

“I do indeed.” 

“You _hit on me_!” 

“I do indeed,” McCree says, grinning wide against the rim of his glass. “Tell me, darlin’, does saving your life do anything for my chances?” 

“Not a damn thing,” Genji says, glowering at him. 

“Well, I reckon I’ll just have to try harder, then.” McCree takes another sip, then grins at him again. “Here’s an idea. How about I save your soul?”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


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